Unloved
by BackTo1895
Summary: Set shortly after Never Been Kissed. Kurt feels lonely and helpless. He has lost all his hopes and dreams. He is being destroyed by the harsh reality – and not even his Dad or Blaine can help him. One-shot. Warning: Bullying and suicide.


Set shortly after Never Been Kissed. Kurt feels lonely and helpless. He has lost all his hopes and dreams. He is being destroyed by the harsh reality – and not even his Dad or Blaine can help him.

Warning: Bullying and suicide.

**Unloved**

He looked in the mirror and through the misty water vapours, he saw a pale boy standing there with bruises all over his thin body – some are already fading, and some are fresh. _That is me_, he had to remind himself, _that boy is me_. He shut his eyes and allowed tears to fall.

The last few months had been hell. There was his father's heart attack. He was so scared that his Dad would leave him and he would be all alone. He feared another funeral. He feared to see another casket. He feared that this time, no one would be there to hold his hand.

Then there was Karofsky. The locker slams became harder and harder, each time leaving a bigger bruise. Now he knew his secret, he had no doubt that Karofsky would stick to his threat. He missed the days of simple dumpster toss and slushie facial.

The nightmares – they were the worst. For several nights in a row, he would dream about his worst fears. He would be in the cemetery, next to his Mom's headstone. He would reach out for his Dad's hand but he could not find him. He would turn around and see a black casket and a brand new headstone – _In Memory of Burt Hummel, loving father_.

In some nights, he would be in a dark alley or the McKinley hallway and they would be there, just waiting for him. They would surround him and beat him up and no one would be there to help. He could do nothing but lying helplessly on the ground. Every morning he wakes up, he would remember the dreams down to every last detail. He remembers the blood that trickled down his nose and mouth, the growing pool of thick scarlet liquid on the cold ground. He could even remember the pain he have suffered – the gash on his forehead when they knocked him against the locker, the bruises when they pushed him against the wall. He remembers his desperation for air when they put their hands around his neck and choked him. He remembers the cracking sound of his ribs when they kicked him and the bleeding wound when they stabbed him with a knife. He dreaded sleep.

He had a whole bottle of sleeping pills – it wasn't hard to get hold of them. He stared at the little white bottle, the sacred bottle that would end all his misery.

No one was there to help, and no one _will_ be there to help. He will always be alone. Unloved.

He washed his face, styled his hair and put on the outfit he has picked out. He wanted to die as Kurt Hummel, the young fashionista. From his drawer, he took out the letter he had written to his Dad and placed it in the middle of his bed. In the letter he had explained and apologised. He felt terrible for leaving, but his Dad would have Carole and Finn to help him get through. He would be fine.

He opened the lid. _Soon_, he thought, _this would all be over_.

He put a pill in his palm. It was amazing, how something so white, so pure could be so deadly.

He placed it in his mouth and swallowed it.

That wasn't bad, not at all. Almost unconsciously, he took another pill out. _So_ _easy_, he thought.

He didn't remember how many he took. Five? Ten? It didn't matter. There was still half a bottle left, why shouldn't he take all of them, just in case?

He started to feel dizzy. There was pain too. Why was there pain? He should be dying in a peaceful sleep, like he had seen on TV. But no – his insides are burning. He could feel tears on his cheeks. No, he promised himself that he wouldn't cry, not when he dies.

He felt sick, but he didn't want to vomit. Even in his half-conscious mind, he knew it would ruin his perfect image.

This wasn't what he had in plan. He started to panic.

He thought he heard something. Music. A song by – he didn't remember, and he couldn't be bothered to try. He was simply too tired.

_You brought me to life… just love… dance… we die… young forever … teenage dream…_

Teenage Dream. That was what the song is called. It was Blaine's customized ring tone. He had to answer the phone – it was Blaine, after all.

Trembling, he managed to reach his iPhone before it stopped ringing. His vision was blurry, but thankfully he knew where the answer button was without looking.

"Kurt? Oh hi, I thought you weren't going to answer. Is it too late? Were you asleep?" He smiled when he heard Blaine's voice. Even though they have only known each other for a few weeks, they have developed a close friendship. Kurt sighed. He would miss Blaine.

"I'm – I'm sorry." Kurt managed to say, his voice was so weak, so unlike his usual self.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice was more urgent now. "Kurt, are you alright?"

Kurt felt the room was spinning. His abdomen still hurt. He needed to lie down. He started to make his way over to the bed, but the rug tripped him. He tried to get up, but it would take the energy that he didn't have.

"Kurt? Are you there?" He could hear muffled voices in the background. Must be those two guys, he thought, what… what were their names?

"Sorry, Blaine." Kurt let out a soft breath. He didn't have much time left.

"Where are you, Kurt? Where is your Dad?"

"He…he is out, with Carole." Kurt closed his eyes. It felt good, relaxing, and he didn't want to open them again. "Finn is…" He almost dozed off, "sleepover…"

"Kurt, are you okay?"

"I…I took some p…pills." His voice grew quieter and quieter, "I'm so sorry, Blaine."

He thought he heard Blaine swear, that couldn't be right. Blaine… the perfect Blaine would never swear.

"Kurt, stay with me, okay? Wes already called an ambulance and they will be there in a few minutes. I am on my way. Don't fall asleep, please. Are you still there, Kurt?"

"Uh-huh," Kurt answered. Why did Blaine call an ambulance? He didn't want to be saved. Didn't Blaine know that?

"Just don't fall asleep, Kurt. Talk to me. Please?"

"Don…don't w…want to." Kurt mumbled into the phone, "Too tired."

"Stay awake, please. We haven't even been to that coffee shop you told me about. I promised to buy you coffee, remember?"

Kurt smiled. He remembered telling Blaine about Lima Bean. It would have been nice, just the two of them, getting coffee.

"Sorry." He said.

"It's okay, Kurt. Just stay awake. Just for a few more minutes."

"Then I can sleep?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Yeah," Blaine replied after a moment, "Just a few more minutes, then you can sleep."

"Okay." Kurt agreed. A few minutes. That wouldn't be so hard.

He suddenly remembered something. Somewhere in his hazy mind, he longed to hear Blaine's beautiful voice.

"_Sing_." He whispered.

For a second, he thought Blaine didn't hear him but then, he heard the sweetest sound.

_My heart stops, when you look at me  
>Just one touch, now baby I believe<br>This is real, so take a chance  
>And don't ever look back<br>Don't ever look back…_


End file.
